adrift
by Super Sister
Summary: Seven days. They had been out here for seven days. AU set in the late 1840s. Ludwig, Gilbert, Bonnefoy, Kirkland, Braginsky and Vargas are stranded on a lifeboat and they know their chance of survival is less than slim to nothing.
1. Prologue

Seven days.

They had been out here for seven days.

God. They were going to die out here.

Ludwig stared at the mocking blue sky. Had it been this blue seven days ago, they wouldn't have _been _in this situation.

God, he didn't want to die out here.

Maybe if they got lucky, someone might find them. Or they'd reach land.

Damn it, he didn't want to die!

The others in the boat were quiet, dozing in the summer sun. The boat was big enough to fit sixteen and they were six, so there was plenty of room to lie down.

They were quickly running out of supplies though. They barely had enough water to get past more than perhaps a day and food was starting to get pretty scarce.

They were going to die out here.

That was a fact.

Ludwig shifted and his brother groaned in complaint. He'd forgotten that Gilbert was resting his head on his shoulder. He shifted again and Gilbert started stirring from his sleep, a little disgruntled by the disturbance.

The small group had run out of things to say a while ago, so long periods of silence were common. Of course, they hadn't _really _run out of things to say. It was just that no one wanted to discuss it.

No one had said it, but they all knew that their chance of survival was slim to nothing.

"… How you holding up?" Gilbert asked quietly. He kept his voice low to avoid disturbing the others. Ludwig looked at the vast seas around them.

"… Thirsty…" he said quietly. "… This is torture…" he added, holding out a hand to touch the ocean water. It was cool and refreshing…

"Don't drink it…" Gilbert said quietly, sitting up.

"I won't," Ludwig replied. He looked around again, drying his wet hand. "… How long do you think it's going to take?"

He didn't have to say what "it" was for Gilbert to know.

"We have enough water to drink perhaps two more cups each," Gilbert replied.

"We'll have to be very sparing with our water…" His eyes lit up for a moment and he looked at the other passengers. He licked his chapped lips, deep in thought.

"You're thinking about it again…" Ludwig muttered lowly.

"… Luckily, it's not an option…" Gilbert replied.

"… What are you two talking about?" another voice said. The Brit, Kirkland as they'd overheard before the ship sank, sat up from his spot on the boat.

"Nothing… Just the weather…" Gilbert said, shrugging. Kirkland frowned and climbed back onto his seat, sitting down and trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. He yawned.

"Just the weather, eh?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "So what's this with options…?"

Gilbert and Ludwig said nothing.

"I hope you weren't planning on killing anyone for a better survival chance…?"

"We wouldn't do that," Gilbert said, quietly. Kirkland glared at them.

"And why not?" he asked. Kirkland's lack of trust and cynicism was one thing that never stopped being annoying.

"We're going to die anyway," Ludwig said curtly. "There wouldn't be any point." Kirkland and Gilbert looked at him surprised. He frowned.

"Don't look at me like that. It's what we're all thinking… Isn't it?"

At this, Gilbert and Kirkland shared a look, before nodding. Yes. That was how it was likely going to end. Sure, they could resort to murder and perhaps even cannibalism- but in the end, they'd survive perhaps a few extra days- while also ridding themselves of their sanity.

Either way… They were dead.

"… I was hoping no one else was thinking that…" Kirkland admitted. "But it seems I'm not the only after all…"

"What can I say? Your cynicism's like a disease," Gilbert replied. "It spreads easy."

Kirkland glared at him and folded his arms, but said nothing, choosing instead to remain silent. He then looked at the vast oceans below and let out a deep sigh.

"… I wish I'd died that night…"

"What?" Ludwig asked. That was a bit blunt. Then again, what difference did it make at this point?

"… We should have drowned that night," Kirkland said simply. "… Why did we survive…?" he continued. Gilbert, seeing Ludwig's despair at the comment, argued "OK, yeah, maybe we should have died… But we were lucky. We should be glad that we survived- that we have these last seven days-"

"What's the point of an extra agonizing week if we're just going to die at the end of it?" Kirkland snapped, irritably. Gilbert didn't reply, instead choosing to glare at the Brit. Kirkland frowned and looked away.

The rest of the boat started stirring from their afternoon slumber.

"Oh, you're talking again?" Bonnefoy asked. Kirkland grumbled something. The two sat the furthest apart from each other, with the Russian sitting between them, to stop them from fighting each other. Ludwig remembered that when they'd been on the ship, the two had constantly been bickering, before eventually brawling. With the Russian present though, the fights had become fewer, saving the worry of the two accidentally capsizing the boat.

At first, Ludwig hadn't been entirely pleased that of all people the somewhat creepy Russian had survived- but it turned out to be for the best. The Russian scared the two madmen from doing anything stupid like, say, capsizing the boat.

"Ja, we're talking again. Don't know how long it's going to last this time," Gilbert replied, laughing a little awkwardly. Conversations on the lifeboat were sporadic and followed by long intervals of silence. There was nothing to do, so most had resigned to simply sleeping away the hours. Might as well conserve energy. They might need it later.

Of course, in the first few days, they'd tried to come up with ways to survive long term. They'd attempted to create a fishing net with their clothes, but that had proven futile- there wasn't a single fish around. Eventually, the oncoming cold of the night had forced them to get their clothes back and dry them as best they could before wearing them again. Other attempts… Well…

"What were you talking about?" the Russian asked, looking up from his place on the boat. Gilbert looked like he was about to reply, but changed his mind at the last second. Gilbert looked at his feet instead. Ludwig sighed.

"We were talking about the fact that… We're going to die," Ludwig stated.

"Fuck, you were thinking that too?" the Italian asked, as he woke up. He looked at them expectantly.

"Ja…" Ludwig admitted. "We don't have much to drink and-"

"We could have all the food we wanted- no water, no survival," Kirkland interrupted. Vargas swore something under his breath and started cursing quietly. The Russian looked thoughtfully at the sky.

"If it were to rain…" he began, but then he shook his head. "Nyet, we have nothing to catch it with…"

All they had aboard were the rations that Vargas had taken with him. Of course, it was pretty clear that Vargas hadn't been expecting five others for company, which was why they were already quickly running out…

"I wish I'd drowned. I hate this…" Vargas muttered.

"What?"

"Not knowing if we'll live or die. I'd have preferred dying- being surrounded by water we can't drink, knowing that though we've gotten this far, we'll probably die anyway… It's torture."

Some muttered something in agreement. But Bonnefoy frowned.

"We should be grateful to be alive," he argued. Ludwig felt a sense of deja-vous. He sighed and wasn't surprised by Kirkland's retort.

"Oh really? What's so great about this?" Kirkland snapped from his side of the boat. Bonnefoy seemed to be at a loss for words, but after a moment's hesitation, he asked "Is there anything you want to get off your chest before dying?"

Kirkland looked at him surprised for a moment, before looking at his feet. Bonnefoy looked to the others.

They ducked their heads down, not wanting to speak. It was obvious there was something they wanted to say- but they didn't want to share it with strangers.

The Frenchman sighed.

"Fine, I see you are men without regrets and that you have absolutely nothing to say before you die…" he said sarcastically, before leaning back.

"Ah, but there is something I want you to know… Since she won't," he continued. "You don't mind listening to a dying man's tale, do you?" he asked.

When no one protested, he continued.

"You see, when I young…"

* * *

**This takes place during the late 1840s. I'm not entirely sure how you travelled between Europe and America during the 19****th**** century, so I apologise for historical inaccuracy. Just a heads-up, there is a very weird mix of historical inaccuracy and accuracy in here... :I  
**


	2. Love survives

"François, please, _please_ don't tell maman et papa," Monique begged, looking at him with her big eyes. He looked at his sister hesitantly and then looked at the boy next to her.

He shouldn't really call him a boy though… Closer up, sure, he looked quite boyish, but it was quite clear, without a doubt in his mind, that this man was the same age as him. It horrified him a little, considering how much younger Monique was to Francis.

Ah, but love was blind… Right?

"I… can't make any promises…" Francis started, looking at the man warily. Usually, he'd be happy to meet new people, but knowing that this man was… involved. With his sister… The protective brother in him had come out.

"… Who are you?" he asked. The man smiled nervously.

"Antonio Fernández Carriedo," came the reply. Francis looked surprised.

"That's quite a fancy name for a stable boy," he stated, crossing his arms. Antonio's smile widened, probably to hide negative emotions.

"I suppose. I never really gave it any thought," he said. Francis glanced to Monique, then at Antonio, then back again.

"Will you please excuse us…?" Francis asked politely, grabbing his sister's arm and tugging her away. She frowned and struggled out of his grip.

"François, I was asking you not to tell maman et papa, not to-" she started, but Francis held a finger to her lips. She glared at him, but silenced.

"Listen… I won't tell maman et papa if you stop spending time with this… Antonio."

"What? That's exactly why I've avoided-" she started, but Francis gave her a sharp look. She fell silent once again.

"I don't trust Antonio… I'm worried you're just a… a toy to him," he explained. For a moment, she looked appalled that Francis could even _think _something like that about Antonio and she even went so far as to open her mouth to voice her opinion, but then she closed it.

"… I hadn't thought of that…" she muttered quietly.

"I'm going to try and get to know Antonio… and if I approve of him…"

Monique looked angry again.

"What? I have to have _your _approval to choose who I wish to love? François, I am no longer a child, I think I know enough about matters of the heart to make decent decisions myself and- He's part of my life- not yours!" Monique argued, in the end resorting to childish arguments.

"The alternative is me telling maman et papa," Francis replied, trumping her.

She glared at him, but didn't complain. She fidgeted and looked away, down the hall.

"… Can I still meet him…?" she asked quietly.

"I said no spending time-" Francis began sternly, only for her to cut him off.

"If we don't do anything, if we're just spending time together as friends… That'd be all right… Right?" she asked. Francis paused and looked out the window. He frowned, thoughtfully.

"… If you can control yourselves… Fair enough," he muttered lowly. Monique gave a sigh of relief.

"… Merci François-" she started, only for the rest of the sentence get muffled when he hugged her.

"I hope he's a good man…" Francis said quietly, almost afraid… For her, probably. She initially wanted to break the embrace, but then decided to place a hand on his back instead, patting it comfortingly. It was clear her brother needed reassurance. She leaned into the hug and smiled warmly.

"Don't worry," she said. "He is."

* * *

And as time proved- Antonio _was _a good man. Not just that, but he was a great friend too. Although they'd only known each other a short time, Francis and Antonio had grown very close, to the point of being best friends…

Which was why Francis agreed to help Antonio try to find his fortune in the United States.

* * *

"Wait, why did he want to go to the United States?" Vargas asked. Bonnefoy paused in his telling for a moment.

"Ah, I always skip over that…"

"Always? How many times have you told this?" Ludwig asked. Bonnefoy ignored him and continued his tale.

* * *

Not long ago, the Bonnefoy parents had decided it was time for Monique to be married. And with her turning down every suitor, it had only been a matter of time until they found out about Antonio… Being from a poor family with little to no education, the Spaniard (as Francis had learnt over the few years) stood no chance of being accepted as a suitor to Monique.

When they had met Antonio, the parents had laughed at him and mocked him, cruelly telling him that if he became rich and wealthy, they'd consider giving their daughter to him… Antonio didn't notice their lies and took them seriously, which was what lead him to the idea of leaving Europe for the promising lands of America.

But Francis had known his parents had been lying. Even with wealth and fortune, they'd turn Antonio away- it was a matter of principle. Whether rich or not, Antonio still lacked the finesse of nobility, education of the rich and, most importantly to the upper classes, had no political knowledge, let alone ties… Allowing Monique to marry him would be… "reckless" in their books.

So _why _Francis hadn't told Antonio that seeking his sister's hand in marriage was pointless… He didn't know. Perhaps because he didn't want the two going their separate ways yet- perhaps because he believed that true love could pull through no matter what, even if it meant leaving for another world… Or perhaps it was because he wanted to get away from France and its people and problems… Europe had, after all, been rather constricting- he'd felt so imprisoned there, unable to do anything he pleased…

As Francis came from a rich family, he had no problem sorting out everything that could stop them from going. They left Europe, as well as unfortunately Monique, who would have to suffer a while longer and faced the new lands of America. Once they'd lived in the United States for a while, they had eventually bought some land in California and had properly started a new life.

Despite settling down, Francis still felt a bit out of place in the wild Wild West. His nobility, knowledge and mannerisms, the fact that he hadn't had to work hard in _that _way had made him quite clashing to America's inhabitants.

Fortunately, Antonio, being a farmer's son after all, fit right in. A natural hard worker, unknown to the Spaniard, he was the one earning most of the money. However, once Francis started up a school where he could flaunt his knowledge and intelligence, things became marginally easier for him.

The two were happy, Antonio being a farmer and Francis a teacher, but despite their comfortable new lives, fortune was far from what they had. And, as time passed, Francis began to wonder if they ever would have enough wealth to buy over his parents.

But when he'd accepted that this was a large possibility, he came to the realisation that the Americas didn't seem to have any aristocracy to speak of. Most were treated as equals, there weren't any notable politics at play… anywhere… Not only was it a surprisingly pleasant change, but this may be their way to having Antonio and Monique unite at last…

* * *

Francis didn't mention his idea until a few "fruitless" years had passed. It was night and the sky seemed more amazing in America than it had in Europe. It was clear and beautiful. Most folks were sleeping, as they had to work their lands in the morning, so the two were alone.

They stared at the night sky, from their house's roof.

"… Still haven't made a fortune…" Antonio commented off hand. Francis glanced to him.

"Oui, that may be, but we didn't end up as cheap labour. That is something, oui?"

Antonio shrugged.

"I was hoping that I'd be rich by now… Do you think Monique has forgotten me?"

"Non. Not with the way she looked at you every moment you were together. She's probably looking at the night skies right this moment, dreaming of you," Francis replied nonchalantly.

"But you're right… You have yet to make a fortune…" he added thoughtfully.

"… Francis, be honest. Do you think there's a chance I'll make it…?" Antonio asked. Francis gave him a side glance, then looked up at the stars.

"… I'm afraid not…"

"I knew it! Oh, what have I done Monique, wasting my time here-"

"Ah, ah, ah, mon ami, you should let me finish!" Francis interrupted. Antonio looked at him, a little surprised.

"Huh?"

"Think of the Earth around us. We're bound to it, oui? Much like we both were bound to Europe and its struggles."

"Sì," he said, trying to figure out where his friend was going with all this.

"And you see those stars? They're free of Earth. Free of its struggles and its problems- society can't tell them how to behave or what to do. The stars are like America. And we're here. We're free Antonio."

"… Huh."

"Now, imagine if we could get Monique here…?"

"Oh! If we were both here… Your parents couldn't…!"

"Oui!"

"That… That'd be great!" Antonio exclaimed, smiling. But then he frowned. "But why would she want to come here…? Do you think she'd even…?"

"Of course she'd come. She could help me as an assistant. She may not be a hard worker of that sort- but she is studious and smart! Besides, there's not a doubt in my mind she'd leave France for you."

Antonio beamed, smiling brightly.

"Then… Then let's steal Monique away from Europe!" he exclaimed, grinning. Francis likewise smiled.

"Ah, I will drink to that," he said, smiling likewise.

* * *

Several weeks later, the two had raked up enough money for a journey to France and, hopefully, back again. Francis had his luggage with him and looked at the ship. It'd be taking him back to the old world and he wasn't entirely looking forward to seeing old faces…

Then again, seeing France again wouldn't kill him.

Antonio smiled.

"I'll see you in a few weeks… Do you think she'll come?"

"There isn't a doubt in my mind. We may be a while, but come summer next year, we'll all be in America," Francis promised. The two friends hugged each other goodbye and Francis watched Antonio retreat from the harbour.

The Spaniard would have come too, if it weren't that he had to tend the farm. Francis had taught one of his students a few things in advance of his departure, so that the children could learn while he was away- he instructed the child not to teach too much at a time, or they might run out of material before he returned.

As he got aboard, he bumped into someone.

"Ah, many apologies Monsieur…" he started, before being cut off.

"Bugger off," was the snapped reply. Francis looked at the man he'd walked into. He looked rather angry and, from his accent, sounded British…

* * *

"OK, that's enough," Kirkland interrupted, frowning. "We get it, you were on that ship so you, your sister and her lover could live happily ever in America."

"No need to be so sarcastic Arthur," Francis said, glaring at the Brit. He crossed his arms. "I'm sure you had better reasons to be on that ship…?"

"It doesn't concern you frog!"

The two glared and Ludwig cleared his throat.

"… Anyway… I hope… I hope Monique and Antonio will somehow still reunite…" Francis trailed off, frowning.

"… If I make it out alive, I'll make sure they will." the Russian muttered.

"We're kind of all on the same boat here. I'd say it's near impossible that only one of us survives- either we all do or we... don't…" Kirkland argued, although his voice faltered towards the end.

"Ah, but who knows when our body's will fail us, da? Some might live longer simply because their body is more stubborn… One day can make all the difference, da?"

No one argued that.

"So, your name's Arthur?" Gilbert asked. Arthur said nothing.

"You didn't know?" Francis asked surprised.

"Well, no one has actually introduced themselves…"

"Ah, I didn't introduce myself?" the Russian asked, suddenly seeming ashamed of himself. The others looked at each other, before slowly nodding.

"I'm Ivan Braginsky. I'm a… ah… A Russian merchant."

"Lovino Vargas. Italian, travelling."

"As you know by now, I'm François Bonnefoy, or Francis since many in the Americas preferred to call me that…"

"Arthur Kirkland. I was visiting a… friend."

"You have a friend in America?"

"… It's not that unusual…"

"Gilbert and Ludwig Beilschmidt. He's a student at the New York University. I've recently graduated."

"Why a university in America?"

"Our parents moved to the Americas when we were kids… We still have strong Prussian ties though…" Ludwig replied.

"Ah, you're a pair of Prussians…"

"Ja and we're proud of it!" Gilbert announced. Ludwig didn't look like he agreed entirely though.

"So… You were travelling back to Prussia?" Lovino asked. Both brothers nodded.

"Our uncle died a few weeks ago. We were going to help and support our aunt."

"But you are students. How can you afford to take so much time off…?" Ivan asked. Gilbert looked to Ludwig and after a moment silence, he grinned widely.

"… Well, I haven't got anything I particularly want to get off my chest… But it won't harm telling you what made me step on that ship. You see, it started a few weeks ago, when our father received a letter from home…"

* * *

**Antonio wanted to make his fortune in America- he lives in California, so he's just in time for the Californian gold rush. Whether or not he'll make his fortune through this coincidence will be left unknown (but it's a yes btw)**

**France was originally going to be the son of a duke- but I decided that he wouldn't mention it. Too many surprised looks.**

**The Beilschmidt brothers are Prussian in this AU. To be fair, there are loads of AUs where Prussia had to be German, so one AU where it's reversed isn't completely unfair… Besides, it wasn't until 1848 that Germany formed for the first time- and even then, it took a while for it to be a proper nation.  
**

**I don't ship SpainxMonaco- it just happened to be useful for France's backstory. I don't know...**


End file.
